When we comes back, we cleans em real good. Cut da fish headz off & guts em. You know. Throws da fish headz to da catz. Once we gets em cleaned up, we takes da fishes in da house. By den, daddy be done had dat grease real hot. And he gots dem grits cooking with cheese in it. Mustard & ketchup ready. You talkin bout some good eating. Man, you got to take ya shoes off & wiggle ya toes while you eat dat kinda Deep South Cooking.

Peep this…at night when it was hard seeing the fishing rod duck down when fish bit the bait–my father had a master plan for that. You know baby shoe bells. He used them. Tied them to the tip of the fishing rods, where the hole is, where the line go through. He tied the bell on the rod tip wt bread wrappers. We might be down a railroad track, checking lines tied to the tracks, trees, etc. Just lines & hooks wt bait. But we had other rods out too. When a fish hit them, the bells went off.

Sometimes, the fish bit the bait one after another or at the same time. It sounded like Christmas bells going off. DADDY WOULD SAY…”that’s what I’m talking bout….get ready lil fish, y’all getting fried up tonight….yes Sir Son, that’s what I’m talking bout.”